


Veterans (Remix of "Rookies")

by orphan_account



Category: due South
Genre: Community: ds_kinkmeme, M/M, One Night Stands, POV First Person, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:29:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray's version of what's going on in "Rookies."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veterans (Remix of "Rookies")

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Rookies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/500794) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> Again, tagged as "one night stands" although they're sequential one night stands. I'm pretty sure that's a thing.

Okay, so when Stella kicked me out, I wasn’t so hot at accepting that it was over. But at the same time, I knew I was single for the first time in about twenty years. The last time I’d been with someone other than Stella, I’d met her at the track and the only thing I knew about her was that she was older, by about ten years or so, really hot, named Lilly and from Albany. Now that I think about, probably only two, maybe three, of those things were true.

Anyway, I had that thing where you can hold two opposite ideas in your head at the same time. Stella and I were going to get back together. I was single and could get together with anyone I wanted to. I believed both those things at once. If you really want the two dollar term for that, I know a guy you can ask.

But I didn’t even know that guy when I had those two wrong-right-wrong ideas at once. Not at first. All I knew was that I could walk into a bar and get anyone I wanted. For one night. 

I ended up leaving my old district for a new one. I was getting kind of a reputation in my old district. They called me a slut. I was okay with that, really. It meant I was someone people wanted. For one night.

In my new district, I had a new name people called me by, well, new to me. Not so new, since I was replacing someone else. But I was a new guy just the same. I tried to romance some women, offering them dancing, drinks, me. They weren’t interested.

That hurt, but I knew one place where I could find people who were interested and didn’t give a shit about dancing or drinks. Rookies was a bar I discovered not long after Stella kicked me out. It was a singles and sports bar, sort of a perfect combo. Not so great for anyone looking for the love of his or her life, but definitely the place to go to scratch a one-time itch. Also, it was equal opportunity. Walking in for a beer and _Sports Center _or even a game, I never knew if I’d be leaving with a man or a woman. Didn’t much care. The mechanics were different, sure, but the feeling was the same.__

The feeling of being wanted. For one night. And I took them home and one night was usually enough for both of us (all three of us, that one time just before I went to the 27th).

Not too long after I got my new unofficial partner, I came clean to him about a lot of things: Stella, the bank, why Marcus Ellery had to pay. My real name, even. It turned out he’d already figured that last one out and even gotten ahold of my jacket.

When he turned up at Rookies, I don’t know. Just one night, there he was. Drinking IBC out of a bottle. I noticed him early, before there was much of a crowd, when I was still getting my beer ordered and figuring out if anyone was offering a line worth following on that night’s Hawks-Leafs game. I mastered my undercover face and just glanced at him.

“Nice to see you here,” I said. If, back at the cemetery just before the eclipse, he could pretend to be surprised that my real name is Stanley Kowalski, I could pretend I saw overgrown Boy Scouts on the prowl at Rookies every damn day of the week and twice on Saturdays. I pushed it further, asking if he was after the same thing I was.

See, I’d read some files, too. And on the one about Metcalf, there’d been a note from Vecchio, real burn-before-reading stuff about how if she ever, ever showed her lovely face in Chicago again, there was going to be hell, Purgatory, and that Buddhist place that’s real cold and everyone’s naked all the time (in a bad way) to pay. She was the only woman Fraser had ever loved, and she’d screwed him over bigtime. So I was pretty sure he wasn’t looking for love, not in all the wrong places, all the right places, or any places at all. Would probably run like hell (or Purgatory, or frozen-bad-naked-place) if anyone offered him anything like it.

So I took him home, waiting for him to bolt. He didn’t. I took him directly into my bedroom, where we never hung out (maybe he’d been there when he was searching my place before the eclipse deal, but neither of us ever talked about it).

I got us naked and on the bed, side-by-side. I told him he was hot, which was kind of extravagantly true, and then I got a little more personal, saying I liked his crooked tooth, that it was just about the best thing about his smile, just so he’d know I could see _him _. I kissed him as sloppy and wet and lewd as I knew how, grabbing at his dick the way only a guy would, because he’d had at least one woman and that had really not gone well for him at all and I wanted to be the opposite of that for him. It was perfect, hell, he was perfect, and I pulled back from our kiss to tell him that, but suddenly realized he might not want to hear that from me, so I went with something vague about “God” and “yes.”__

I guess he liked that just fine, because he responded by biting my shoulder. Very considerately, where the mark wouldn’t show, but that was the only consideration he showed. It was a hard bite, and it went straight to my cock just the same. I’d never been bit that hard during sex. Never knew that I liked it. During sex. Don’t get me started on Kuzma, which happened somewhere between the fourth and fifth time I picked up Fraser at Rookies (or he picked up me).

But something about that bite just really got me. Next time I was with someone else like that, I got her to bite me. Didn’t have the same charge to it. Just when Fraser did it. 

Anyway, these days I only go to Rookies hoping that Fraser will be there with his IBC. And he shows pretty often, not quite once a week, but a little more than twice a month. And I take him home and we show each other a real good time. 

We never talk about Rookies or my bedroom the rest of the time. And we don’t talk about the job, or Canada, or my divorce or anything like that at Rookies or in my bedroom. Two separate worlds. The only time they intersect is that, being the old fashioned gentleman that I am, I send him flowers every morning after, just a couple of rosebuds or tiger lillies in an IBC bottle that the florist puts together and delivers to the Consulate for me. I’d like all these places, all these Frasers, to be in the same world, but I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Don’t know if he’s ready for that.

For now, though, we’re safe enough being friends and partners most of the time, and something different two-three times a month, in Rookies, in my bedroom. Not what I want, but it’s what I’ve got.

**Author's Note:**

> New challenge: I gave the woman Ray met at the track a name. She's a character from a non-"due South" fictional work. Who is she and what was the work? Same inducement as offered in the end notes for "Rookies": leave your guess and a "due South" pairing/prompt in comments (or e-mail it directly to me: marionettesockATgmail.com, since this is not really a desperate ploy to pump up my comments section, I swear!) and the correct answer gets the pairing/prompt fulfilled. Incorrect guess? I may still fill the pairing/prompt. Just let me know if you do or do not want to be credited if I fill your pairing/prompt.


End file.
